


First Born: What If?

by inukagome15



Series: The Last Archangel AU [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Crossover, Friendship, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25733182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inukagome15/pseuds/inukagome15
Summary: An exploration of other AUs set in First Born. What were some of the different paths that could have been taken?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Michael (Supernatural)
Series: The Last Archangel AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2066088
Comments: 14
Kudos: 84





	First Born: What If?

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a place where I can dump AU snippets and ideas. I have a [tumblr](http://thelastarchangelaskblog.tumblr.com) for the series as well if you want to check that out!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon sent in [this very intriguing ask](https://thelastarchangelaskblog.tumblr.com/post/624724425037742080/i-keep-imagining-wayne-struggling-with-insomnia) and it sparked something. I was about to just do it with no lead-up but had to be more thorough than that. So 4,000 words of this AU, which would be more fleshed out if I were doing a full-fledged story in this AU.
> 
> I make no apologies for the ending.

One of the last things Draco expected when attending Hogwarts was _actually_ making friends. Malfoys didn’t have friends; they had _acquaintances_.

Though Hopkins, as usual, barreled right over all that as he had the moment they’d shared a carriage that first train ride. He never seemed to mind that Draco was a Malfoy, even though his Hufflepuff friends reacted the way Draco expected them to. No, Hopkins continued to invite Draco out or make room for him whenever Draco invited himself along.

It was altogether refreshing, and so it wasn’t any surprise that Draco got attached to him. Attached and so increasingly worried as Hopkins seemed to spiral down as their first year went on. He never actually went to see Madame Pomfrey for the chronic insomnia, and he left Hogwarts at the end of the year looking far too peaky for his skin color.

Hopkins wrote over break, extending a hand that Draco hadn’t expected. Draco responded, since it was only proper.

And correspondence continued in that vein until they met on the Express once more.

Hopkins looked much better now, though still a little tired and like he hadn’t gotten the sleep he needed. But his mother was a med-witch, so Draco expected she’d gone through the gamut of potions and other tests for her son.

Madame Pomfrey seemed to have been alerted as well, judging by the trips Hopkins took to the Hospital Wing whenever one of his friends dragged him there. Draco tromped along at one point, if only to keep updated on what was going on since Hopkins was stubbornly silent on the issue at hand.

When wandering the grounds, Hopkins was never alone. Even when Draco was with him, one of his other Hufflepuff friends would be there with him.

Draco would have thought they didn’t trust him to take care of Hopkins, but he realized that it was actually because they were concerned about _Hopkins_. He would occasionally look at the Forbidden Forest with a distant expression in his eyes that had Draco’s skin crawling. It was an alien look that Draco didn’t know how to pinpoint, and it was clear that none of Hopkins’s other friends liked it any better.

But as second year continued onwards, Draco’s attention soon turned to other matters. He was Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team. And no matter what kind of disapproving looks Hopkins shot his way about the affair, Draco would continue to insist he was a _bloody good one_.

Yet it was the petrifications that really concerned Draco, though his father didn’t seem to mind as much. Hopkins and his friends _did_ , and they seemed to try to pull Hopkins away from Draco in the meantime, clearly mistrusting him.

It didn’t hurt, but Draco would absolutely admit to some vindication when Hopkins continued to seek him out regardless.

Hopkins also didn’t seem inclined to think Potter was the heir of Slytherin, muttering something about it “being so utterly stupid” in a tone that didn’t seem entirely normal but then nothing was normal since he was almost dead on his feet at the time. And that didn’t get any better as the year dragged on, more people were petrified, and fear was rampant through the school.

Draco thought it was ridiculous, but then he also didn’t have to worry since he was a pure-blood. Abbott and Finch-Fletchley were likely more at risk what with being mud – Muggle-borns.

Hopkins didn’t like mudblood. And Draco rather preferred not being given that disappointed/disgusted look like Hopkins thought Draco was better than that.

Draco continued thinking it was ridiculous, right up until Finch-Fletchley was _actually_ petrified along with the Gryffindor ghost. It quickly stopped being a laughing matter at that point, since Hopkins and his friends were absolutely distraught.

Surprisingly, Hopkins wasn’t allowed anywhere on his own after that. Even though Draco privately thought that Hopkins doing anything as foolhardy as hunting down the perpetrator was entirely unlikely. Yet Macmillan seemed to think a full-time guard on Hopkins was necessary, and Bones kept a very close eye on Abbott to make sure that she was safe.

Even if he had wanted to help, Draco didn’t have any answers for the Chamber of Secrets or how to stop any of it. But when push came to shove, _Harry Potter_ stepped in and did...something?

Draco wished he knew exactly what, only it involved...things. Like setting one of his family’s house-elves free and putting his father in an apoplectic fury. And somehow making sure no one else would be petrified, which was all well and good.

Everyone was thoroughly relieved when things were over. Even Draco, because it also meant that Hopkins was no longer supervised at all hours of the day by Macmillan. Which...Draco _still_ didn’t understand why he’d deemed that necessary?

Hopkins was a half-blood. Definitely not likely to have been sought out by Slytherin’s monster.

But it was over with, and it was summer again. Hopkins didn’t seem any better than he did last year, sleepwalking through their remaining classes and falling asleep in odd corners because apparently he couldn’t seem to get any sleep at night and refused to abuse the sleeping potions provided by Madame Pomfrey.

Draco hoped he’d be better in the summer. He was sure that lack of sleep was bad and led to terrible things happening. Hopkins almost falling asleep in an open candle flame was enough proof of that.

Summer before the start of their third year passed similarly to last year. Hopkins sent a few letters Draco’s way, keeping up communication outside of school until they met up once more on the Hogwarts Express.

Which then ended up being absolutely _awful_ when a bloody _Dementor_ showed up. The Dementor wasn’t even in their carriage - no, Draco had heard that it had gone to poke at Potter’s - but he’d been more focused on the fact that Hopkins had literally collapsed and couldn’t be roused for ages afterwards.

And when he did wake, he wasn’t himself, clearly dazed and speaking in a strange, guttural tongue that no one had ever heard him use before. He gripped hold of Macmillan’s wrist too tightly, fingers white around the limb, and it wasn’t until they managed to shake him back into awareness that he let go, confused and _scared_.

Later, Draco had seen Macmillan gingerly shake his wrist out and the bruises blossoming on the white skin. He hadn’t let Hopkins see, knowing that he would blame himself for something that wasn’t his fault.

Parkinson would tell him later that Potter had also passed out and woken up screaming and had apparently cried like a little baby. Draco would have gladly gone to poke fun at Potter at this, but he was still vividly remembering Hopkins’s reaction to the entire affair and the..oddity of it.

People didn’t normally start speaking in tongues after an encounter with Dementors.

Hopkins didn’t even tell them what he’d seen that had shaken him so badly, stubbornly remaining quiet on the entire affair even though he was shaking for _hours_ afterwards. Draco highly doubted he’d be getting any sleep tonight, and his suspicions were proven right the next morning when he asked Macmillan about it.

At this point, Hopkins’s friends and he were aligned in their concern for Hopkins’s health and in pushing Hopkins to go to the Hospital Wing for sleep aids. Not that it really helped, since Hopkins could be so incredibly stubborn.

It was worrying, but Draco wasn’t Hopkins’s minder. No, he’d keep an eye on him and push him into taking care of himself if he needed to but he wasn’t going to _nag_ him. He wasn’t going to be like _that_.

Besides, he was busy with his classes, which now included Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Care of Magical Creatures. The first two involved a lot of homework, but the last was an absolute joke with that oaf teaching it. Draco didn’t know what Dumbledore was thinking hiring that giant buffoon, but he supposed he couldn’t have expected anything different from the Muggle-lover.

The oaf brought in hippogriffs, then went on about their remarkable intelligence, cautioning them all to be extremely respectful. Which, _please_ , they were _animals_.

Later, Draco would reflect on the fact that him getting injured because of his own foolishness was apparently a great way to rile Hopkins’s temper and get a proper scolding. But right now, there was a lot of pain and he was miffed that Hopkins was scolding him for being irresponsible and stupid and “did he _really_ want to be like his father?”

Draco’s pride was stung, and he refused to speak with Hopkins any further, throwing him out of the Hospital Wing as best as he could given that he was in a bed and told not to move while the potions did their work.

Draco refused to speak with Hopkins afterwards, avoiding him and his friends like they had the plague. It sucked, especially since no one in Slytherin provided the same kind of company Hopkins did, but Draco wasn’t going to be judged by Hopkins and his bloody standards.

But as the weeks passed, it sucked even more to see how Hopkins was faring. That it was so starkly clear how he wasn’t sleeping and back to falling asleep on his feet and at the library table. Only now Draco couldn’t do anything about it because he had a point to make.

Hopkins did come by at some point after Draco’s father pushed for the hippogriff to be executed, but it wasn’t to apologize. It was to go off on how he’d really expected better from Draco and was disappointed in the choices Draco had made.

Draco gave as good as he got, firing back that he didn’t need or want Hopkins’s judgment or approval. And if it bothered him _that_ much, then they didn’t need to be friends, did they?

Hopkins gave him a startled look that looked a little hurt, and Draco couldn’t help but notice that he looked dead on his feet, almost swaying a little. But he said nothing, because if they weren’t even going to be _acquaintances_ then he didn’t have to fuss over Hopkins. He left without another word.

As the weeks passed, Draco didn’t even bother to look at Hopkins now, resolving to wash his hands entirely of him. He didn’t need or want his judgment, not for something that Hopkins would never understand as a _half-blood_.

But Hopkins’s words nagged at him despite Draco doing his best to forget about them - forget about Hopkins. It was difficult to forget him, and he _missed_ him, too. He couldn’t avoid admitting that to himself when he kept having to stop himself from looking to Hopkins and seeking Hopkins out.

So, he missed Hopkins, but that didn’t mean anything. Draco wasn’t going to just up and drop everything considering Hopkins had no bloody clue what he was talking about.

Still...he felt...guilty? Chagrined. Upset. And angry that he felt those things because the oaf shouldn’t even be teaching!

There wasn’t anyone Draco could talk to about this. He wasn’t close to anyone in Slytherin and Hopkins’s friends were Hopkins’s friends and had been shooting him nasty looks since the argument. It left him on his own and stewing.

Draco didn’t normally wander the halls in the evening. That was more of a Potter thing, and Draco tried not to be like Potter because that was stupid and Potter was dumb.

But he was upset (not sulking regardless of what Greengrass told him) and needed some alone time. Only when he did wander into the Entrance Hall, he saw Hopkins wander outside, without his usual entourage of Macmillan and Finch-Fletchley. And they had _always_ been with Hopkins whenever he went outside since the start of second year.

So it was weird that Hopkins was by himself now.

Despite his better judgment telling him otherwise, Draco followed him. Sneakily. Since he was ignoring Hopkins and being spotted following him would put a pin in that.

Strangely enough, Hopkins was making a beeline for the Forbidden Forest. And that was...really odd. But surely he wouldn’t be insane enough to go _inside_?

Only, no...he was going inside. He was going into the Forbidden Forest and Draco Malfoy was the only one here to see it because it was night and the sun had set. Also it was cold and the chill of the Dementors was settling into his bones and Dr _aco knew_ Hopkins had limited all his excursions outside since the start of term.

This didn’t make sense, and now Draco was rushing after him out of concern.

In fact, he actually called out after him because he wasn’t going to let Hopkins get himself killed.

But Hopkins didn’t hear him, didn’t even seem to react, and Draco tripped over an exposed root in the dark and almost faceplanted. He caught himself just in time, gritting his teeth as pain jolted up the arm that had been injured by the blasted hippogriff. It was mostly fine nowadays except for the odd moment when it would pain him.

He gathered himself and stood up, hurrying after Hopkins and this time not making an effort at being sneaky about it. Being sneaky would mean losing Hopkins’s trail, magical light or no. And Hopkins didn’t even _have_ a light on, so how was he seeing?

Draco didn’t catch up with him, pride warring with concern. He remained just behind Hopkins, but even so he wasn’t acknowledged.

After some more minutes of silent walking and Draco stumbling over a few more roots, he got fed up with it and just reached out to snag hold of Hopkins’s robe to pull him to a stop. He had no idea where they were and it was dark and cold and there were _Dementors on the grounds_ and Hopkins was absolutely insane.

Draco told him exactly this, only for Hopkins to fix him with an eerily blank look and a flat statement to not interfere before he pulled out of his grip and continued walking.

Draco spent a few moments gaping after him before he spluttered indignantly and bolted after him, not wanting to lose him to the depths of the forest and also not wanting to be alone with no way of going back to the castle.

This was utterly idiotic. Draco had no idea what he was thinking doing this.

He kept berating himself for his idiocy and stumbling along after Hopkins until they abruptly entered a clearing. Only...it wasn’t a _clearing_. There was - there was an absolutely _enormous_ tree in the center, sprawling roots peeking out of the ground and stretching towards the surrounding trees.

Draco craned his head back, mouth dropping as he took in the full expanse of this monstrous tree. A tree like this had to be visible from the castle. There was no way anyone could miss it. It dwarfed all the other trees in the forest by magnitudes, and Draco couldn’t even see all of it in the dark.

There was an atmosphere around it, the entire area...quiet. It felt...peaceful and serene. And...charged?

Enraptured as he was by the giant tree, Draco almost missed Hopkins heading towards the trunk like a man on a mission, climbing onto the exposed roots and walking on them. He hesitated, not going after him because this was making increasingly less sense.

He called after him again, only for Hopkins to continue to ignore him. And Draco was about ready to stun him and call it a night when Hopkins’s hand touched the trunk.

The light that pierced through the darkness was blinding after the prolonged exposure to the dim light of Draco’s own _lumos_ spell, hurting Draco’s eyes. He slammed them shut, flinching away and bringing his arms up over his head to block the light that seemed to _sear_ his eyelids. He could almost feel heat against his skin, so much warmer than the cold air.

A second after the light came, there was an odd ringing sound, which than escalated to a _screeching_ sound that Draco had never heard in his life. It hurt his ears, hurt his _head_ ; he couldn’t even _think,_ and it felt like the _ground was shaking_.

And then as abruptly as it had started, it stopped. Draco’s ears were ringing with the aftermath of whatever that was, and there were white splotches on the underside of his eyelids.

He was on the ground, having fallen over at some point.

Draco uncurled from the fetal position he had somehow curled up into, slowly sitting up and picking up his still illuminated wand from where it had fallen on the grass. He lifted it up, trying to illuminate the surroundings that suddenly seemed even darker than they had earlier.

All he could see was Hopkins standing at the trunk of that impossible tree. And he could _see_ him, because there was a faint glow about his person, like he was a firefly. He seemed to be fine, still in one piece. The glowing was an issue, but they could figure that out once they got back to Hogwarts.

Draco pushed himself to his feet, clambering over the roots Hopkins had traversed with such ease earlier. The rough bark chafed at his hands - he probably had a few splinters - and his feet almost slipped a few times before he found his footing and was able to make his way to where Hopkins was still standing like a statue.

Draco called his name, and this time Hopkins did react. He turned towards Draco, the glow about his person fading entirely until he looked entirely normal. For an instant there seemed to be a silver light to his eyes, but it was gone the moment he turned, and it was likely only a trick of Draco’s wandlight.

His face was eerily blank, no emotion on there that Draco could make out. He had never seen such an expression on Hopkins’s face before. It was - it looked unnatural.

And - and there was a presence to him - a weight that Draco was only now registering. He paused several feet away from Hopkins, wary and uncertain and something like fear brewing in the pit of his stomach.

Hopkins’s eyes flickered over Draco, like he was evaluating him, and then his gaze turned elsewhere to over Draco’s shoulder.

Draco wasn’t sure why, was about to ask if Hopkins was okay and if they could please go back to Hogwarts, when an unfamiliar voice broke the silence and accused Hopkins of...stealing something? That this place had been protected.

Oh bloody hell, there was a centaur staring them down. Draco was many things, but he was not about to piss a centaur off on their territory.

Hopkins didn’t seem to mind, though his tone was...odd. Eerily blank. He said the protection would remain but it was his to take and so nothing had been stolen.

The centaur seemed just as uncertain as Draco did. Draco wasn’t sure if this was a good or bad thing. From what he knew of centaurs, they were cryptic and neutral and seeing one befuddled by Hopkins was unpleasant.

They were told to leave. Draco didn’t have enough time to point out that they’d love to do that - could the centaur please point them in the right direction? - when the world abruptly shifted and he suddenly found himself standing in front of the wall leading to the Slytherin Common Room.

His stomach lurched unpleasantly, distinctly unsettled, and Draco staggered sideways, feeling sick. Bloody _hell_. That had not felt like Apparition, and he didn’t think the centaurs could do _that_ kind of magic.

But somehow they - Hopkins was here, too - had made it back into Hogwarts.

Hopkins was standing there, watching Draco. His expression was still eerily blank, and he was holding himself in an unfamiliar manner.

“What just happened?” Draco blurted out, which was not the first thing he’d wanted to say but it was the first thing that fell out of his mouth. “Are you okay? How did we get here? _What just happened_?”

Hopkins blinked, still holding Draco’s gaze. “You should go to bed.”

“That answered absolutely nothing,” Draco accused him. “ _You_ should go to bed! What were you doing out and wandering through the Forbidden Forest? _Why_ did you go into the Forest?”

There was another blink but no other movement. Draco realized that Hopkins hadn’t moved at all since touching that tree. Or at least not moved like he would normally. He was abnormally, unusually still, the only sign of life the occasional blink and his breathing.

“What was that?” Draco asked again when Hopkins still didn’t answer.

Hopkins remained silent for a long moment, then said, tonelessly, “Something long overdue.” A beat, and then he added, like it was an afterthought, “Thank you for your time. You’ll be safe as long as you remain inside.”

“You’re not going outside again!” Draco protested. “Are you mad?”

A blink and an odd head tilt was Draco’s only answer. Draco had the odd feeling like he was being very carefully inspected, an eerie feeling washing over him.

“You care.” There was emotion now in Hopkins’s voice, that of surprise.

The flat statement threw Draco off guard, and he floundered, searching for an answer that wasn’t an immediate admission. “It’s - it’s common courtesy, Hopkins!”

There was no change to Hopkins’s face, but Draco received the distinct impression that he didn’t believe him.

“What’s going on?” Draco asked again, since he rather thought he deserved answers at this point. “What happened there with that tree? What was the centaur talking about? How did we suddenly end up back in Hogwarts?”

There was no answer for several very long moments, and Draco was beginning to suspect that Hopkins wouldn’t answer him at all when there was movement again, Hopkins blinking and finally looking away.

“This is pointless,” Hopkins muttered under his breath.

“Pointless?” Draco bristled indignantly. “Something happened out there and now you’re behaving like - like this!” He waved ineffectually at Hopkins’s entire person. “I think I deserve _some_ answers, Hopkins!”

That eerily penetrating gaze was back now, and Draco felt much like he suspected a flobberworm did in its last moments of life.

“You’ve been kind,” Hopkins said eventually, bizarrely, “but your friend is no longer here.”

Draco stared at him, uncomprehending. “What,” he managed blankly. “But you’re...here?” He waved again at Hopkins’s entire person, feeling dumb.

“I am,” Hopkins agreed, still not making any sense, “but your friend isn’t.”

It took Draco a few seconds to register what Hopkins meant. “Are you _possessing Hopkins_?”

There was a head shake of denial. “No.”

“Then what do you mean? Speak _English_ , Hopkins - whoever you are!”

The person that _looked_ like Hopkins but wasn’t behaving at all like him gave Draco a piercing look that seemed to strike at his core. There was a flicker of something in his face now, which could have been impatience. “I was Wayne Hopkins, but your friend is gone, and I can’t return him if that’s what you want. Go to bed, Draco Malfoy. This will be a bad dream in the morning.”

Draco stared at him. “If you’re not Hopkins, then who are you?”

There was another interminable silence, something dark flickering over Hopkins’s face. “Does it matter?”

“You’re in my _friend’s body_ ; I’d say it matters!”

There was a flicker of too-bright silver light in Hopkins’s eyes, and this time it couldn’t be attributed to Draco’s spell. “You can call me Michael.”


End file.
